It was early summer 2006 when my dad, four brothers, and I loaded up our large fifteen passenger van, with bikes attached front and back, and gear stowed in rooftop carriers up above, and drove south from Edmonton to the British Columbia border at the Crowsnest Pass. Our goal was to ride border-to-border across Alberta, from British Columbia to Saskatchewan.
We arrived in the afternoon, and two of my brothers and I unloaded our bikes from the racks and started riding east on Highway 3. Meanwhile, Dad and my two youngest brothers drove ahead to set up camp near Pincher Creek.
My only memory of that day of riding is the tall, white wind turbines, row up on row along the ridges of the southern Albertan foothills.
We cycled into the campground north of Pincher Creek early in the evening, and spent the night there.
My memories of the next day, from the campground by Pincher Creek to Lethbridge, are somewhat more plentiful.
I remember the heat, and more than the heat, the sun. I remember looking at my right, "southern," calf, bright red, the skin in pain as it flexed as I moved my pedals. The occasional cow watering holes we cycled by, slimy and bug-infested as they were, began looking like gorgeous oases, beckoning my body. Eventually I pulled my sock off and tied it around my calf to try to protect it from further burn.
I remember cycling through Fort McLeod, appreciating its history much more on my bicycle than I ever had driving through.
I remember the spectacular approach to Lethbridge, with the enormous railroad trestle bridge to the south, and the winding highway, seemingly descending forever towards the Old Man River.
We camped right inside Lethbridge that night, and I cycled over to the YMCA to enjoy a really good shower and a dip in the hot tub.
From Lethbridge we continued east along Highway 3 for another extraordinarily hot and sunny day of riding. Today's ride was a mostly flat or gently rolling 86 kilometres, but the heat and sun were so intense that it was not an enjoyable ride at all. I've never been so badly sun burnt in my life.
We stopped for the night in the public park of a little place called Bow Island, and thankfully Dad had bought an enormous bottle of aloe that we could apply to our burns.
After the tremendous heat of the previous two days, our final day brought relief in the form of a massive thunderstorm. We had made it about 30 kilometres or so before the storm really began pounding us, well on our way to Medicine Hat, where we would join Highway 1, but still 70-80 kilometres from the border with Saskatchewan.
I was pretty set on reaching the border, and I remember simply going all out through the pouring rain, even as my brothers bailed, first one, then the other. Eventually Dad and all my brothers, two thoroughly soaked, pulled up in the van ahead of me and made me stop. I only finally got off my bike when Dad agreed we would come back later in the summer to let us finish the kilometres we had left. In retrospect, cycling in those conditions was not just miserable, but probably foolish given the risks of lightening.
Dad stayed true to his word, and early one morning in early September 2006 we loaded the van up again and drove back to where we had had to quit. We jumped on our bikes and rode east, making quick time into Medicine Hat and southeast towards the border along Highway 1. At this time of year the weather was far cooler and the sun much more forgiving, and we had a helpful tail wind. This, combined with the fact that this was the home stretch of what had become a much longer cycling trip than we had anticipated, made the ride one of the most exhilarating I had done to date.
We cycled into the campground north of Pincher Creek early in the evening, and spent the night there.
My memories of the next day, from the campground by Pincher Creek to Lethbridge, are somewhat more plentiful.
I remember the heat, and more than the heat, the sun. I remember looking at my right, "southern," calf, bright red, the skin in pain as it flexed as I moved my pedals. The occasional cow watering holes we cycled by, slimy and bug-infested as they were, began looking like gorgeous oases, beckoning my body. Eventually I pulled my sock off and tied it around my calf to try to protect it from further burn.
I remember cycling through Fort McLeod, appreciating its history much more on my bicycle than I ever had driving through.
I remember the spectacular approach to Lethbridge, with the enormous railroad trestle bridge to the south, and the winding highway, seemingly descending forever towards the Old Man River.
We camped right inside Lethbridge that night, and I cycled over to the YMCA to enjoy a really good shower and a dip in the hot tub.
From Lethbridge we continued east along Highway 3 for another extraordinarily hot and sunny day of riding. Today's ride was a mostly flat or gently rolling 86 kilometres, but the heat and sun were so intense that it was not an enjoyable ride at all. I've never been so badly sun burnt in my life.
We stopped for the night in the public park of a little place called Bow Island, and thankfully Dad had bought an enormous bottle of aloe that we could apply to our burns.
After the tremendous heat of the previous two days, our final day brought relief in the form of a massive thunderstorm. We had made it about 30 kilometres or so before the storm really began pounding us, well on our way to Medicine Hat, where we would join Highway 1, but still 70-80 kilometres from the border with Saskatchewan.
I was pretty set on reaching the border, and I remember simply going all out through the pouring rain, even as my brothers bailed, first one, then the other. Eventually Dad and all my brothers, two thoroughly soaked, pulled up in the van ahead of me and made me stop. I only finally got off my bike when Dad agreed we would come back later in the summer to let us finish the kilometres we had left. In retrospect, cycling in those conditions was not just miserable, but probably foolish given the risks of lightening.
Dad stayed true to his word, and early one morning in early September 2006 we loaded the van up again and drove back to where we had had to quit. We jumped on our bikes and rode east, making quick time into Medicine Hat and southeast towards the border along Highway 1. At this time of year the weather was far cooler and the sun much more forgiving, and we had a helpful tail wind. This, combined with the fact that this was the home stretch of what had become a much longer cycling trip than we had anticipated, made the ride one of the most exhilarating I had done to date.
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